Man Eater
by wayward-tiger
Summary: As usual, Dean has to find quick work for himself since John hasn't left them very much cash for both of the boys, and Dean's picked up a new reputation during his time in town.


Dean felt the guy's fat lip smear against the short stubble of his chiseled chin. Their tongues flicked against each other in greeting, wet and slippery, sliding along the other's length. Their skin caught in a sticky stretch as they parted for breath. Dean licked his plump lips playfully and grinned at the guy he had just finished fucking with in the last stall of the men's restroom of the no-name bar and grille.

"Thanks, buddy." Dean purred as he ran his thumb over the smeared red lipstick on the guy's right cheek.

The man reached out toward Dean and placed his hands on either side of the youth's hips, attempting to pull him in closer so that Dean would straddle his lap again, "Damn, baby, ain't ever had a pussy as smooth as your hole before."

Dean smirked at the man and lowered himself back down onto his empty lap, casually bending his knees and spreading his legs wider with his descent. The boy salaciously wrapped his arms around the man's neck and hugged him close to his black V-neck t-shirt. He began licking at the short fuzz of beard that spread from the guy's chin to his ear; he nipped at the skin every few licks, sending a buzz of electric sensations tingling through the guy's body and nudging his well-spent dick to life. The guy's hands wandered lower from Dean's hips to his ass cheeks and began kneading at the soft flesh while Dean continued teasing his ear with frisky nips.

"You ain't eve gonna have a pussy as smooth as my hole if you don't pay up." Dean whispered into the guy's ear as he lazily held a knife against the base of the guy's reviving dick.

The man stilled with his movements and widened his eyes at the realization of a weapon being held to his most precious of family jewels. He looked into Dean's twinkling green eyes and silently nodded as he raised his hands above his head.

"S-s-s'in m-my j-jacket." The man stuttered as he eyeballed the stall door's back hook where both Dean and his own clothes were hung neatly.

Dean looked over his shoulder at the worn blue denim jacket and then back to the middle-aged trucker before he nodded and retracted the blade. He nodded at the man and give him a short peck against his dimpled cheek before he raised himself to his feet and patted the guy's naked thigh. Dean ambled over toward his clothes and slowly pulled his pants over his exposed ass all the while watching the guy sit silently on the toilet with his hands still above his head.

Reaching for the man's coat, Dean shoved his fingers into the deep pocket and extracted a bunch of bills. He pulled five twenty dollar bills from the stash and threw the remainder of the cash at the stunned man.

"Like I said," Dean started as he stylishly flung his leather jacket overtop his uncovered shoulders and ran his fingers through his mussed hair, "thanks, buddy."

Without another word, Dean pressed the tips of his index and middle fingers to his lips and blew a kiss in the man's direction. He kicked open the stall door and winked his goodbye, leaving the man speechless with only the sound of Dean's steel-toed boots hitting the dirty linoleum flooring of the bathroom on his way out.

Once the bathroom door slammed shut, sounding the exit of the very attractive boy, the man slumped back, relaxing into the frame of the porcelain chair. He released a sigh of relief, thankful that his dick had managed to live through to see another day.

**X**

Dean sauntered out of the bathroom, holding his head up high with confidence as he walked past the dozens of curious and questioning glances thrown his way. The bar room fell silent when he reached the front door, and so he leaned against the doorknob and waved his hand in mock delight.

"G'night, boys." Dean winked as he marched out of the bar and closed the door behind him.

He walked a few steps from the bar and dropped himself onto one of the motor cycles that lines the front wall of the building. He adeptly slipped a thin, unwound paper clip into the ignition slot and wiggled it around until he heard the rumbling purr of the vehicle bursting to life. He tugged on the handles and sped off into the night, leaving the bar and grille behind the in the storm of road dust he left in his trail.

He drove on for ten minutes until the road he traveled led him to the familiar, run down motel close to the interstate exit. He pulled off into the dirt parking lot and turned into a hidden space behind a section of tall bushes. He cut the power and strolled over to the corner room on the first floor—motel room number seven. He pulled a silver key from his back pocket and quietly opened the door to find his sixteen-year-old brother sprawled across the queen-sized bed with school books set around him, covering every available section of available space. He gently closed the door and tiptoed into the room.

Noticing Dean shutting the door and crossing his way through their motel room and toward the bathroom, Sam lifted his head and dragged his attention away from his current reading material, "Hey, Dean, where'd ya go?"

Pausing his stride, Dean turned to look down at his younger sibling and kindly smiled, "Just out, Sammy." Dean set aside a stack of books and placed them on the carpeted floor before he plopped himself beside Sam and ruffled his hands through his shaggy brown hair, "What'cha been up to, dork?"

Sam looked up at Dean with an expression of mock dejection and stuck out his tongue, "Nothin', just reading about the history of American presidents."

"Sounds like too much of an effort if you ask me." Dean sighed.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam's expression turned similar to one of longing, "Especially since I'm not gonna be able to go on the overnight museum trip to Branson."

That perked Dean's attention and his eyes grew wide with excitement as a grin slipped over his features, "Actually, Sammy, Dad sent in some extra cash," Dean watched as his brother looked up with growing joy, "I think we'll be able to afford to send you on that trip after all."

"Sweet!" Sam yipped as he jumped to his feet and bounced up and down.

"Settle down, sasquatch, you're shaking the whole damn building." Dean laughed as he dug into his pocket for the collection of twenties he had stowed away, "Here ya go, don't say Dad never cared about your education."

"Thank you so much, Dean!" Sam took his brother into his arms and squeezed him tight.

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it," Dean patted the back of Sam's shoulders, simply satisfied that he was able to make life a little more enjoyable for his baby brother.

**X**

Back at the bar, the trucker Dean had left in shambles dawdled his way out into the barroom and seated himself in the nearest empty stool he could find. He flopped onto the plastic-covered seat and leaned over the bar counter with a sigh of exhaustion.

"What got you lookin' so ragged, Hank?" the man next to the trucker spoke as he looked over his worn features.

Hank exhaled and ran his hand down the center of his face before he looked at the other man with a serious expression, "You'll never believe me if I told you, Jim."

"Wanna bet?" Jim teased as he raised his hand to alert the bartender of another drink refill for both him and his friend.

Taking a moment to decide whether or not he should say anything about the events that just took place, Hank broke his silence and confided, "Just had the most amazing sex with the tightest lil' slut I ever seen."

Jim burst into laughter, thankful he had no beverage to his lips due to the fear of spitting the contents out in disbelief, "The fuck you on, brother?"

"I'm serious! While I was walkin' into the facilities over there, the most enticing lil' blonde twink came up to me and offered himself to me." Hank slapped the countertop, trying to make him be believed, "Nearly got my junior snipped off by an oversized pocket knife when I didn't pay him for his time. Barely walked outta that stall a man."

"Yeah, okay, you just keep tellin' yourself that if that's what makes you feel any better." Jim continued to howl with laughter, "I swear you must'a been passed out on that toilet for an hour, 'cause I know ain't nobody wanna sleep with your fat ass."

Hank shook his head in embarrassment as his friend barked insults. They were both interrupted from their actions when they heard the bartender clear her throat while she filled their glasses.

"'Scuse me, but I couldn't help but over hear your talk about that blonde boy," the black-haired, sultry waitress chimed in, "I can tell you now that your friend here's tellin' the truth."

Jim eyed both Hank and the bartender suspiciously, "You ain't kiddin," he noted the honest expression in her eyes, "You serious 'bout this, Hank? Some boy tried to play Lorena to your John?"

"As serious as the plague." Hank confirmed.

"Who was he?" Jim asked in disbelief.

The bartender leaned over the clean countertop, resting her buxom chest against her crossed arms as she spoke, "Dunno. Just some kid that's been comin' in every few nights for the past three weeks. Doesn't cause any trouble; just comes in and gives good business. He spends most of his time over at the pool table and talkin' to older fellas such as your fine gentlemanly selves." She paused to take a deep breath and glance toward the door, "I've seen him lure these men into his company, spending a few hours at a time with each one of 'em. Sometimes they'll come back in with the most sated look on their face, meanwhile others look like they seen the apocalypse or some shit." She laughed into her shoulder, "Bet'ya any amount of cash the kid's some sort of prostitute."

"I can confirm that; he damn well robbed me of my manhood for the satisfaction of a few bucks." Hank blurted out with a furious tone.

The bartender roller her eyes and smirked, "I'll bet he did. He didn't get his nickname for nothin'."

"The kid's got a name?" Jim asked, curious to learn more about the intriguing, mystery boy from the barroom shadows.

"Not a name, just a nickname some of the fella's have been givin' him since he's been showin' up." The bartender corrected.

Looking at each other in the eye before turning their attention back to the woman in front of them, both Jim and Hank asked in unison, "And what would that be?"

"They call him the Man Eater."


End file.
